


A Boy and His Doll

by Vituperative_cupcakes



Category: Child's Play/Chucky (Movies)
Genre: Foul Language, Other, doll torture, twisted pseudo father-son relationship, when you peer into the abyss...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-19 12:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13704696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vituperative_cupcakes/pseuds/Vituperative_cupcakes
Summary: From the stinger at the end ofCurseto the attempted rescue inCult, this follows Andy's capture of the renegade killer doll who made his life hell for so many years.





	1. Playtime

The cutting is the first thing, the most important. Andy has to gag him because he is still in an apartment, the cabin is miles and months away, and there must be some kind of discretion. They might excuse the shotgun blast (“surprised a burglar, no, no one hurt, I scared him away”) but they won’t excuse the screams.

Those will come later too. They will be savored like fine wine.

Chucky glares out of one baleful blue eye. The kind of look that would kill if he could. The other eye is lost in the red mess left by the blast. He chews on the gag, howling through his nose and the old sock Andy has stuffed in his mouth. 

One last tendon snaps and Chucky is decapitated. Now, this is the interesting part. Over the years he’s researched it, trying to probe the boundaries of what is possible and what isn’t. If Chucky was truly human in his doll body, by all rights he should be dead. But still his body writhes and twitches, hateful maggot that it is, squirms around the nails driven into each individual joint. Still Chucky glares out of that lonely eye, snarling curse words through the cloth stuffed in his mouth. 

Andy looks down at his childhood’s destroyer and smiles.

The body goes into the fireplace. One piece at a time.

 

“Hi, I'm Chucky, wanna play?”

“Cut it out, dipshit.” Andy is screwing a spike into the board that will be his home for the foreseeable future.

“I liked to be hugged. I like to suck on big ol’ titties. Hey sport, how’s your mom these days?”

“Safe,” Andy says breezily as he sets down the screwdriver. 

“She shack up with Norris? Funny, I always meant to pay him a visit too, just never got around to it.”

Andy places his hands to either side of Chucky’s head and smiles down on him. “I know.”

The doll seems uneasy. He likes having the element of surprise, but not being surprised. The notion that he may not hold all the cards in a situation unsettles him deeply.

“You ever pay him a visit, Andy?” The doll blinks, servos clicking. He grins venomously. “He ever call or write over the years? Or was he smart and kept away from you? Lots of parents come and gone in the years since we met, Andy. Lots of abandonment. But I'm still here, aren’t I sport?”

Andy looks down. His brown eyes are as inscrutable as a brick wall. “For now.”

Chucky blinks again, face falling to panic. “Wait—”

Andy snatches up the doll’s head and screws it down onto the board. He savors each agonized wail as the head swirls closer and closer to the wood. On TV, the slasher movie he’s employed as cover drowns out his screams with the snarl of chainsaws. 

“ _ Fffuck _ you,” Chucky gasps, “fuck you, you little bitch.”

Andy scoots him to the center of the table,fussily straightening the edges of the board. “There. Now we can see eye-to-eye. Isn’t this fun?”

“Not as fun as when I cut your fuckin’ nuts off,” Chucky rasps. He’s panting. No body, no lungs, and he’s panting. What fucking voodoo is he using?”

“You know, Chucky, you’re all talk.” Andy sits back in his chair and clasps his hands over his stomach. “You always say you’re going to do something terrible to me—”

“Slowly. With a rusty butterknife.”

“—but you never deliver. You wanna talk about truant parental figures? You’re number one on the list.”

The doll blinks, taken aback. The sight of him confused is almost cute. “Wha….kid, I ain’t your dad.”

“And I'm not a kid.”

“I fucked up your life pretty spectacularly, you little shit, don’t try denying it.”

Andy barely tries to hide his smile. One of Chucky’s weak spots has always been his pride. Pushing that particular button is too damn easy, but also too damn satisfying to resist.

“You’ve had...an impact,” he allows. He leans forward. “But not as big as you’d like to tell yourself.”

Chucky laughs that sharp, nasal giggle Andy has heard in his nightmares for nearly thirty years. “Fuckin’ hell, I haven’t. I’m the reason you answered your door with a shotgun!”

Andy shrugs. “I have it for protection. It’s a dodgy neighborhood.”

“Bull  _ shit!” _

“Chucky, what can I say?” Andy gestures widely. “I don’t think about you 24/7. I knew you were coming because I heard about the Pierce murders. You’re a little on the predictable side.”

Chucky narrows his eye. “Mouthy. Little. Bitch.” 

“You haven’t switched it up much, have you? You say you have an MO? I say you’re in a rut.”

“I’ll show you who’s in a fuckin’ rut!” Chucky spits and snarls, agitated motions scooting the board across the tabletop. “Just wait. The second I get offa this, I'm nailin’  _ you  _ to a board! You uppity little shit! I’m gonna bite your fuckin’ throat out! You think I've been bad? I’ve been fuckin’ soft up til now! I’m gonna cut parts off you while you’re still alive!”

Andy smiles. He’s haloed by the TV screen, body parts and gore flying past his head and masking the screams of the impotent murderer.

“You know, Chucky,” he says gently as he takes up the cloth gag, “if you’re not going to be civil, this conversation is over.”

“No—”

Chucky’s scream leaves the opening Andy needs, and the gag is back in. Andy rocks back in his chair and smiles beatifically at Chucky.

The phone rings in another room. Andy turns the TV down, just a little, and leaves. He’s held a couple of muffled phone conversations since trapping the doll, always in another room, always just below the threshold of Chucky’s hearing. The doll grumbles and chews on his gag. Next time, he’s not popping out to surprise the little shit. Next time he’s slitting Andy’s throat first, then letting him see who did him in.

...or is he?

Chucky has to admit to himself that yeah, kid has a point. He is in a bit of a rut. How many times has he tried this exact thing on Andy? And how many times has it worked? 

True, he has a plan, a fuckin’ blue ribboner if there ever was one, but he hadn’t been able to resist the urge to come fuck with the kid one last time. Now here he is nailed to a board and the plan as good as kaput.

...or is it?

Chucky realizes something. As long as Andy has him right here, he isn’t going to be out looking for him. As fucked as he is right now, he really holds all the cards when you got right down to it. All he has to do is play the long game…

Andy comes back in, an assortment of stabbing implements in his hands. He smiles at Chucky, and is slightly repulsed when Chucky smiled back.

“Playtime,” he says grimly. The TV gets turned back up. No one calls the police, not in this neighborhood.


	2. Father Figures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a very talky chapter

“...when you really get down to it. I mean, if the crazy military school chick won’t have you, who will?”

Andy is calmly going through paperwork. Chucky has been talking (rambling, really) since Andy ungagged him, twenty minutes or so. Save for a microscopic wince every now and then, something that is easily ascribed to papercuts, Andy is stonefaced.

“Whadja do? Huh, Andy? Did ya give her a shiner? Did ya call her a cunt, say she was just like her mother? Or maybe...maybe you didn’t do anything at all. She saw something inside you she didn’t like. Something _I_ put there. I know. Women, right? So fuckin’ temperamental.”

Andy finally looks up at Chucky. “Maybe this comes as a shock to you, but there’s more ways a relationship can end that have nothing to do with violence.”

“Ahhhhh, bullshit. People say ‘it was mutual’ but you can bet they wouldn’t pass up a chance to gut their ex if they got it.”

Andy smiles at him in a pitying manner. “That’s been _your_ experience?”

The doll grimaces. Being talked down to has always been one of his pet peeves. “You too. Don’t lie, kid. Your mom wound up in the nuthouse because Norris turned stoolie on her.”

He hasn’t hit paydirt. Andy is still smiling that calm, condescending smile. “Is that really what you think happened?”

“Fuck! Yeah, kid, no matter how you dress it up, big hero cop showed his true colors the second the pressure was on him.” A sneer enters Chucky’s voice. “Just walked out on you. Not the first time your old man let you down, huh?”

He’s scrabbling, looking for anything that will land a hit, and it almost seems like he has when Andy abandons his papers completely to turn and give Chucky his full attention. But he’s still smiling.

“Okay,” he says, “let’s talk about dads.”

Chucky glares uneasily.

“Your dad, for instance.”

Chucky growls. “You’d better back the fuck up, kiddo.”

Andy steeples his fingers under his chin. “Let’s talk about violent alcoholics. Let’s talk about serial wife and child abusers. Let’s talk about _your_ dad.”

“Fuck you! You whiny little orphan shit! You should be on your knees kissing my plastic dick that I didn’t just kill you when I met you!”

Andy weathers the storm until it passes. “Okay then. Let’s talk about Sarah Pierce.”

Chucky wrinkles his nose. “...the fuck you find out about her?”

“I read up on you. Don’t you do the same? Don’t you care how I've been doing all these years?” Andy’s tone is sardonic.

“Kid, you ain’t that important to me in the grand scheme o’ things.”

Andy smirks and says “suuuuuuure.”

Chucky snaps his teeth.

“The incident report says you abducted her and tried to play happy families. That’s an odd behavior for a man who claims he’s a hardass.”

“She was my plaything, kid, I'll tell you all about it when your balls drop.”

Andy’s still smirking. “Makes a lot of sense, in retrospect.”

“What does?”

“You. This. Everything.” Andy gestures, palm up, to their surroundings. “You want to create your own family, but you’re too damaged to make it work. You want to be daddy. That’s why you’ll never kill me. That’s why you couldn’t kill Nica Pierce.” he catches Chucky’s shock. “Yeah. I know about her. _I followed the trial._ I know why you went after her. In your own sick, twisted way you want kids.”

Chucky rolls his eye. “Andy...not sure how to break this to ya, but I already got a kid. Or two. It’s a little confusing. But my point is, I don’t need a sissy and a cripple to carry on my legacy.”

“Oh, you _have_ kids?” Andy lifts his eyebrows in mock-interest. “When was the last time you spoke to them?”

Chucky grits his teeth.

“Saw them?”

Chucky’s remaining eye could cut steel beams with its glare.

“Played dollies?”

“Ha ha fuckety-ha, kid.”

“See in therapy I learned this thing called displacement. It’s when you substitute one goal for another, less attainable goal. You want to build a family, but that takes time. Effort. Takes relationship skills you don’t have. It’s scary. So you barge in on someone else’s family and terrorize them into letting you in. But it’s not real family. It’s not satisfying. So you self-sabotage and wreck everything. Move on, cycle repeats.”

Chucky squints. “....man, those headshrinkers really did a number on you, didn’t they?”

“Okay, I'll put it like this: why didn’t you kill Sarah Pierce?”

Chucky snickers. “You must not know a whole lot about women, sport. Fear seasons the meat. She was sweeter when she thought she might die. Worth the awkward positions.”

“Why bring her flowers?”

“...What.”

“You brought her flowers. It’s in her deposition.” Andy brings out a piece of paper he’s been sitting on, reading with barely-contained glee. “ _...Ray would often bring me flowers while imprisoned. He insisted on being referred to as ‘uncle Charles’ in the presence of my daughter, and would often force me to hold hands with him for hours on end.”_ Andy looks up and clicks his tongue. “That’s awfully sentimental, Charles.”

“DON’T! FUCKING! CALL ME THAT!” Chucky shouts so loud it reverberated off the cheap apartment walls. “She was a whore, every woman is a whore once you get her on her back!”

Andy lets him rant, politely waiting until he runs out of steam. “She was a whore...and yet you had to kill her husband to get her to sleep with you?”

“She was givin’ me the eye, but then she tried to play it off like she wasn’t. Can’t stand a tease.”

“You wanted her to hold your hand. Is that what you ask whores to do?” Andy is grinning now, he’s roasting Chucky and the doll can’t retaliate. “You brought her flowers. Last I checked, whores don’t need gifts.”

“I was tryin’ to make it nice for her and bitch! Did not! Appreciate!” Chucky is actually frothing with rage now. “That’s the way the world is, Andy. What-her-tits did the same to you, don’t deny it. You saved her from dyin’ and she still left! Everybody leaves in the end, kid! Everybody leaves!”

Andy looks slightly put off, as if the conversation has veered out of control. There’s a look on his face that is approaching sympathy. “Kristen and I found out that we’re just two different people, that’s all. We’re still friends. No bitterness. We still talk.”

“Fuck off with that touchy-feely shit,” Chucky sneers, “I know there’s a reason you live alone in a shitbox apartment. They left. Everyone left.”

Andy raised a finger, aims it at Chucky like a gun. “...except you.”

“Kid, the only reason I came back is to finish you.”

“But you came back,” Andy said, raising his voice, “you could’ve gotten away with so much more over the years, but you kept coming back to me. Even after you stopped trying to take my body.”

“Yeah. To twist the knife. I like watching you suffer.”

“Or you like checking up on me.” Andy’s face is placid and blank. “You feel responsible for me. You won’t admit it, but I bet you’re proud of me in some way.”

Chucky cackles. _“Eyah._ I'm proud I turned you into a twisted little shit who can’t get a date.”

“That’s not all.” Andy gets up from the bed and walks out of Chucky’s line of sight. “That’s not nearly all.” The sound of rummaging. “You taught me quickness, to think on my feet. You taught me not to trust authority figures.” The sound of a drawer snapping shut. Andy stalks back and holds a barbed knuckle-duster under Chucky’s nose. “You turned me into a survivor.”

More blood than should be possible spatters the tarp Andy’s laid down. No matter how he drains Chucky’s head, it does not ever seem to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it really bugs me where exactly the other members of Chucky's survivor club are. In _Curse_ Andy's got DeSilva's picture on his wall and it's implied they ended up together, but suddenly in _Cult_ he's dating? Also Kyle comes back at the end of _Cult_ , implying Andy was in contact with her, so why does the movie make it seem like Andy was completely alone? _Child's Play 2_ implies that Andy's mom is the only one confirming his story with Norris nowhere to be seen, but the stinger of _Curse_ implies they're together now??? I need the TV series to answer these questions dammit, they're keeping me awake at night.


End file.
